


Yes, your highness

by 796116311389



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b-Consolation, Angst, But no graphic details, But then it got away from me, Couch Cuddles, Ficlet, Hopeful Ending, I made a second chapter, I'll probably definitely make a sequel cause I need a happier ending, M/M, Sharing a Couch, Sickfic, Tenderness, it was supposed to be funny, mentions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389
Summary: Sherlock was essentially impervious to most sicknesses. It didn't matter if the whole of London came down with the flu, somehow the man always managed to avoid getting sick.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almosttomorocco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almosttomorocco/gifts), [azriona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/gifts).



> Another 221b-consolation fic! This time for almosttomorocco and azriona. 
> 
> Almosttomorocco: "I love me some sickfic? Maybe something about the first time John deals with a sick Sherlock??"
> 
> Azriona: "To add on to almosttomorocco's prompt: Sherlock has an annoying habit when sick. What is it?"

Sherlock was essentially impervious to most sicknesses. It didn't matter if the whole of London came down with the flu, somehow the man always managed to avoid getting sick.

Which is why it was so surprising one morning to find Sherlock in the bathroom hunched over the toilet bowl, vomiting.

"Good morning. Are you okay?"

Sherlock finished dry heaving, sat back against the wall, and gave John a thoroughly scathing look.

"I meant besides the obvious. I don't think I've ever seen you sick before."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly and evenly. "That's because I actually go to great lengths to avoid being sick. I hate it. It's a completely detestable feeling."

"So what do you think caused this then?" John gestures weakly towards the toilet.

"Mmmm. This was entirely expected. I pulled out that frozen Palak Paneer dinner a couple of days ago, forgot about It, found it had thawed, threw it back in the freezer to refreeze, and finally ate it for dinner last night. While I didn't plan to get sick I'm not at all surprised because eating that was a particularly stupid decision on my part."

"Well, yeah. There's a reason it says don't thaw before eating on the package. Pretty sure it says not to refreeze it as well."

"Yes, thank you. I'm well aware." Sherlock leans forward and then up onto his knees to look into the toilet.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing?"

"John, could you get me one of the clean jars. I think I'd like a sample."

"What?! That's disgusting. No."

Sherlock turns to John and gives him the biggest sad eyes he can manage.

John throws his hands up in exasperation, "Fine, but for the record, you're disgusting."

A couple of hours and one argument later (" You are not putting the vomit in the fridge." "Then the counter." "Ok, fine, the fridge, but in a box so I can't see it.") Sherlock was lying on the couch and John was seated in his chair, reading.

"John, get me some water."

John looked over to Sherlock. He looked at him a moment before deciding to get him the water. A moment later he brought it back and sat on the coffee table in front of Sherlock. He sets the water next to himself.

He stares at Sherlock. Sherlock stares back.

"What?"

"You didn't make yourself sick just for the attention, did you?"

"What? No. I already told you I hate being sick. The malaise, the lethargia, the bodily discharge. The whole thing. No, if I wanted your attention I could certainly do so in a much less dramatic way."

"I just wanted to check." John places the back of his hand on Sherlock's forehead. "You feel better?"

Sherlock closes his eyes and soaks in the comfort of John's hand on him. "Mmm, yes. I threw up three times between last night and this morning counting the round you saw this morning. I've lost around half a stone. I'm incredibly thirsty, but beyond that fine."

John gives Sherlock a sceptical look, but removes his hand and helps Sherlock sit up to drink water.

Sherlock takes the glass and downs half of it one go. 

"Ah, that is much better."

"Slow down or your stomach will cramp."

"Yes, your highness."

"The fact that you just said that to me without a trace of irony is, quite frankly, impressive."

Sherlock gave a noncommittal hum and readjusts himself back into a lying position. John starts to get up to walk away when Sherlock's hand grabs John's and stops him in his tracks.

"Lie down with me."

John merely blinks at the request.

"John, I'm tired and you're comfortable. Lie down with me on the couch."

"We can't both fit."

"Yes, we can. Get down here."

Sherlock tugs John down and John caught off guard a moment lands on a knee over Sherlock.

"Ok, fine. But you're going to have to budge over. I'm not lying on top of you."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason John. Lie down." Sherlock gives another tug and John lays himself over Sherlock's body.

His face is tucked into Sherlock's collar bone at the juncture of neck and chest. Sherlock smells like sweat and skin, a hint of the lavender soap he uses. John realises Sherlock's right about them both fitting and being comfortable.

John relaxes into the feel of Sherlock beneath him. He can feel Sherlock's breath even out and realises he's fallen asleep.

John lets the feel of Sherlock breathing lull him to sleep.

When John opens his eyes again he's moved in his sleep to be between Sherlock and the couch back. 

John's arms have ended up around Sherlock and Sherlock has an equally tight grip around him. He's a bit sweaty from being pressed up against Sherlock and he's pretty sure he drooled a bit onto Sherlock. Their legs are tangled together and John quickly realises he has no way of moving without waking up Sherlock.

He decides to just lie there a bit until Sherlock wakes up on his own.

He contemplates their position. It's not quite platonic for men to end up like this. Proper English men don't end up absolutely comfortably tangled with their best friend.  
On the other hand, he supposes, he and Sherlock have never really behaved like proper English men and really the entire mindset is a bit rot.

Sherlock begins to stir. He clasps John tighter to himself and stretches his legs out before tucking them right back up with John's.

"I can hear you thinking. It woke me up."

"No it didn't."

John smiles as he feels Sherlock's low baritone chuckle against his face where he has it tucked up into Sherlock's neck.

The air turns thick around them, heavy with something John can't name. He can feel a sudden tension in Sherlock.

A quietly anxious stilted whisper, "This is okay, isn't it?"

John hugs Sherlock to himself more tightly, heart suddenly swelling with affection for the man. Hearing Sherlock so hesitant and anxious about whether or not John thinks this is okay or right or whatever, tears into John's heart.

John clears his throat, suddenly thick with emotion.

"Of course. Of course it is."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is to fulfil my final 221b-consolation prompt. Anon asked for late night Johnlock and a meandering conversation.
> 
> I hope they see this and I hope I delivered. :)

After the first time they fell asleep together on the couch it became a semiregular habit.

If Sherlock had had a long case or John had a long day, they might end up together on the couch. They didn't speak about it again. Usually it was Sherlock who initiated the 'snuggle sessions' as John had begun referring to them in his head. Which made sense as it was usually Sherlock who had claim of the couch.

They continued on like this for a few months and John could feel a new tension in the flat, but he didn't know what it was. It felt like they were dancing around each other, but neither he or Sherlock were acting any differently as far as he could tell.

Still.

***********

John had spent his day off in his pyjamas lazing about the flat and generally doing nothing. Sherlock had been gone since the early morning to find something or other. Case related, but not dangerous. Just research, so John would have been a distraction. Early evening creeps up and Sherlock still isn't back. John lies down on the couch to watch some tv and soon falls asleep.

He wakes to the feel of Sherlock climbing onto the couch on top of him, still in his suit trousers and shirtsleeves with the arms rolled up.

The room is dim, the kitchen light the only light on in the flat.

"Hmmm, hello. What time is it?"

"One thirty or so," Sherlock pauses, "I didn't mean to wake you."

John blinks blearily up into Sherlock's half lit face and smiles softly. "It's fine. Did you just get home?"

Sherlock relaxes fully onto John and tucks his head beside John's. John brings an arm up and begins rubbing small circles into Sherlock's back.

"No. I've been back for a little while."

"You're warm."

"Were you cold?"

"I honestly hadn't noticed until you laid down on me. But, yes, I think I was."

Sherlock snuggles into John and let's out a quiet sigh. 

"You're comfortable."

John gives a laugh, "I know, we've established that at this point."

Sherlock's voice goes quiet, "No, I mean you're comfortable. You aren't tense or annoyed or anything like that. You aren't merely tolerating our new habit, you actively enjoy it."

John turns his head slightly towards Sherlock and buries his face in Sherlock's curls. He inhales slowly and smells Sherlock's shampoo. It has an almond hint to it.

"Yeah, I do. God help me, I do, Sherlock." He whispers.

Silence settles around them and John has nearly fallen asleep again when Sherlock whispers, "Would it be so bad?"

"Would what?"

"Us."

"Together?"

"Together."

John thinks about that a moment.

A relationship between Sherlock and him.

He realises nothing would change, they're already in a relationship. The strongest, deepest relationship John's ever been in, if he's being honest with himself. The only thing they haven't done is acknowledge it. Verbally. 

Physically.

He's been quiet too long and Sherlock misunderstands.

"Ignore the question. Forget I asked it."

"No."

"No?"

"No, it wouldn't be bad at all. Is that what you want?"

Sherlock lifts his head and looks down at John. Even in the half light Sherlock's gaze is arresting. John's breath catches in his throat. Sherlock seems to approve of whatever he finds and gives a short pleased hum.

John, himself, finds his breath again and smiles up at Sherlock. The hand that isn't slung over Sherlock's back moves up to the his curls and begins stroking them gently.

"I would like there to be certain changes to the way we conduct ourselves with one another."

"Mmm, such as?" John prompts playfully.

He's rewarded with a suddenly shy Sherlock looking away from him and mumbling quietly, "Well, for starters, you could kiss me."

Sherlock peeks back at John and John uses the hand in Sherlock's hair to coax him to look at John fully again.

"I would love to kiss you, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock stretches forward tentatively and John decides to meet him in the middle and tilts his head up.

Their lips meet gently, barely touching one another, but John feels it like an electric shock. They part mere millimetres and then Sherlock is pressing back again more firmly. John revels in the plush softness of Sherlock's lips. They part again a moment and John licks his lips so when they meet again, there's moisture, and their lips slide together.

Sherlock lets out a quiet sigh against John and John responds by delicately licking Sherlock's lower lip. 

Sherlock's breathing stutters and John takes the opportunity of Sherlock's parted lips to suck on the lower one. Sherlock lets out a low groan and John pulls his head back. He runs both his hands soothingly up and down Sherlock's back.

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock looks at John, his face flushed and his eyes heavy-lidded, and whispers, brokenly, "John."

John brings a hand up and cradles Sherlock's head to his chest, his other hand never stopping it's soothing stroking. They lie like this for a few minutes. The flat is silent save the hum of the fridge. John guesses it's gone three by now.

Sherlock settles against John and makes a questioning noise.

"Shh. It's okay. Just rest your eyes and sleep."

John places a gentle kiss on the crown of Sherlock's head.

They sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to write a second chapter because I want to make the ending even happier.
> 
> Edit: I added a second chapter! It's...still angsty. Lol.


End file.
